The 'How' Trilogy
by hull1984
Summary: Ron's lost in the Forbidden Forest. He's not alone.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Written in 2005 and the first story I ever posted on livejournal (I made a bit of a pig's ear out of the posting and spent a sleepless night trying to find out how to delete it before running away and hiding under my bed. Aah, good days).

* * *

How Ron Learned To Love Crookshanks

Fucking cat.

It would be one fucking dead cat if he ever got his hands on it. Leading him into the Forbidden Forest.

Ron determinedly ignored the little voice at the back of his head that was trying to attract his attention.

Stupid, fat furball.

Why did it have to run in here of all places?

The little voice was jumping up and down and waving its hands at him.

Of all the stupid bastard things to do. To run after a cat - into the Forbidden Forest - in the dark.

Ugly, mangy moggy.

The little voice was jumping, waving and shouting loudly now.

"Oh for fucks sake shut up! I know! I know! If I hadn't kicked the stupid thing then it wouldn't have ran off in the first place and I wouldn't have felt obliged to bring it back before Hermione missed it. There, happy now?"

He stopped walking and leant against the nearest tree.

"I only kicked the stupid thing 'cos it was using my leg as a scratching post," he mumbled to himself. "It's always had it in for me that bloody cat. Wouldn't surprise me if it was hiding behind a tree laughing at me right now."

Sure enough, at that exact moment Ron could have sworn he heard a snigger behind him. He started walking again. Fucking fog was really beginning to freak him out. Oh yes, did he mention that? Stupid cat had led him into the Forbidden Forest - in the dark - during a thick fog. Oh yeah, that was one fucking dead cat.

Ron was lost. And trying very hard not to panic; but it wasn't easy. He really, really hated fog, always had. It freaked him out; left him feeling smothered, as if all his senses had suddenly been rendered impotent. He was blind and alone; it scared him witless. Truth was Ron had two phobias - spiders and fog. And here he was lost in an impenetrable mist, in the middle of a forest inhabited by hundreds of giant spiders. He felt like vomiting. He stopped walking and leant against another tree.

God, he loved trees.

"Calm down, Ron. Deep breaths." The sound of his own voice helped to stave off the panic. "It's only a bit of fog. Don't think of spiders. No spiders. Think good thoughts - dead cats, dead cats."

Gradually his breathing evened out. Panic attack over - for now - Ron knew that he would have to start moving again. But where? He had no clue which direction would lead him out of the forest and which would lead him further in. At any moment he could stumble upon centaurs, thestrals or - or - breathe Ron,breathe - Aragog's lovely family.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Not for the first time, Ron berated himself for failing to bring his wand with him. Merlin, when was he ever going to learn? You'd think after all this time and all the shit he'd had to deal with in the last seven years that he would have known to take his wand with him. Fuck, he was going to tape it to his forehead when he got back.

He'd give anything not to be here. Anything - all his chocolate frog cards, the snitch he'd been given after helping to win the House Cup in fifth year, his Prefects badge. Not that the badge meant much to him anyway.

Oh for fuck's sake, Ron, you're probably going to be eaten by giant spiders, I think it might be okay to admit the truth.

"Oh, okay. You can't have my Prefect's badge," he shouted into the mist.

Ron started to laugh, slightly hysterically. He realised that he'd just said that out loud. Not that it mattered. Who was going to hear him? Oh yeah, homicidal man-horses, enormous arachnids and whatever else Hagrid had allowed to inhabit the Forest. Hagrid. The man who had raised Aragog. Who thought Norbert the dragon was 'adorable', that 'Fluffy' was an appropriate name for a ferocious, three-headed dog, and assigned carnivorous books as study aids.

Oh good, that was alright then. Nothing to worry about. He could feel another panic attack threatening.

"Talk Ron. That's it. Keep talking." It did seem to help calm him and well, there was no one for miles to hear him. Well, apart from…

Fuck, don't start that again.

"It's fine. Everything's fine. Just walk, Ron. One foot in front of the other. It will be fine. As long as you're moving. A moving target is better than a stationary one." He started shaking his head vigorously. "Shut up! Shut up! No targets! No one is a target. And there are definitely no spiders. Uh Uh, NO spiders. Oh shit I feel sick again."

He paused with his hands in his hair. "Distraction, need a distraction. Think about something else, anything else." Taking a deep breath he continued walking.

"Wonder what Harry's doing now?" Feeling slightly calmer Ron smiled. "He's probably wondering where I am. I was supposed to meet him at least an hour ago. He wouldn't believe it if he knew. This would be the last place he'd expect to find me."

Peering through the mist that seemed to be settling more thickly around him, Ron shook his head slowly. "Especially on a night like this. Not when he knows my two biggest fears. Only person who does. Not even the rest of the family know about the fog thing. Spiders, well I think most people know about that by now. But only Harry knows about the fog."

He paused again. "Wish he was here. He'd know what to do. Actually I wish anyone was here. I'd kiss them! Yep, I would." He was nodding now, "male, female, non-Ron eating animal...I'd bloody snog the lot just to have someone else here with me."

Another pause, then a snort, "Except Malfoy, of course. Well, I do have some standards." Ron sniggered but it was very forced. He stopped walking and flinched. He could have sworn he'd heard something breathing far too close.

"Fuck!" Ron gulped, shivering as he glared fiercely, trying to penetrate the gloom that surrounded him. "Okay, okay," he forced a laugh, on the cusp of hysteria, "I'd even kiss Malfoy."

Oh shit! There was definitely something breathing heavily very close behind him.

"I'd kiss Malfoy, daddy Malfoy and bleeding Dobby if only someone was here. Merlin, I'd do anything they wanted if only there was someone else here right now."

He started to walk quicker.

Please, let me be going in the right direction, he thought deperately.

All Ron could think about were hairy arms. Long, hairy arms lowering around his neck, brushing his face. He stopped, panting for breath. He hadn't even realised he'd started to run.

Fuck, he wanted to cry.

"What a wimp. Harry wouldn't cry just because of a little fog. Merlin, he'd faced off against Voldemort. Fog would be light relief for Harry. I don't know how he puts up with me."

Oh fuck it! He jumped about a foot. Something had snorted loudly behind him. Ron started to move again, a new sense of urgency spurring him on.

"Keep talking, Ron - it might think you're too mental to eat. Okay, so where was I? Oh yeah, being a wimp. Why did I have to be afraid of spiders? Bloody twins, all their fault. Though now that I think about it, wouldn't it make more sense to be afraid of teddy bears? Oh, nice going, Ron. Great idea - let's develop a new phobia why don't we. Just what I need - a fear of giant teddy bears leaping out the fog at me."

He startled at a sudden sound behind him. "Didn't hear a snigger. Didn't hear anything."

Pausing, Ron rested against a tree. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm himself and started walking again.

"I wonder what Malfoy would do if I did kiss him? Woah! Where did that come from?" He stopped walking. "Self-preservation mate. Remember you're trying to distract yourself?" He nodded slowly. "Well, that would do it."

Moving again Ron continued. "Okay, as long as it's merely a diversionary tactic - he'd probably faint. Or vomit. Ha, might be worth it then."

He pursed his lips in thought. "Mind you, Harry would probably faint too. Hermione would probably launch into a lecture on technique. Snape would kill me."

He paused again, contemplating kissing the greasy haired Potions master. "Well, he'd try but I would have already topped myself. McGonagall would _" Ron grimaced, "eew, what am I thinking?"

Distraction remember?

"Fuck distraction! I'd rather think about spiders!"

This fog was really fucking with his senses because for one mad minute there, Ron really thought that someone or something had just giggled.

Fucking great, he thought, I'm being followed by a hungry, homicidal, giggling beastie thing.

He started to snigger. He was actually starting to feel better about this whole situation.

So, it was rather unfortunate that _something_ chose that moment to press up against his back. Then, Ron felt arms reaching around him and hands were covering his eyes.

Oh shit.

Hot breath puffed against Ron's clammy neck and a soft voice whispered into his ear, "Guess who?"

Ron couldn't speak, couldn't move. Part of him was relieved that the _something_ appeared to be human. Another part of him was just overcome with sheer terror at being touched.

"Don't know?" The voice asked, warm breath sending strange sensations tingling down Ron's spine. "I'm hurt."

Ron's breathing began to slow to a normal rate. He began to feel less endangered. Possibly. Maybe. There was something worryingly familiar about that voice.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Weasel, but daddy and Dobby couldn't make it..."

Malfoy! Oh, fucking fantastic. Giant spiders, fog and now Draco bleeding Malfoy.

The hands were still covering his eyes.

"Guess yet, Weaselbee?"

Ron didn't know what to do. A first for him. Usually "_Malfoy"_ and "_response to"_ was a given - Malfoy - bastard - pummel to death. See? Easy. But well the truth was that Ron was so relieved to have someone else, even the Ferret, there with him that a part of him - and he wasn't about to admit which part - was tempted to carry out his earlier offer. Ron wasn't too perturbed by that - after all he had even considered kissing Harry and Snape under similar circumstances; it was obviously just an extreme response to his phobia-induced hysteria.

Malfoy shifted closer and whispered, "I claim my reward. And I promise I won't faint or vomit."

Ron frowned. "Reward? What reward?"

"Oh, I think you know."

Ron frowned. What did he have that Malfoy could possibly want?

Hands dropped from his eyes and cold air rushed into the space left by the Slytherin's retreating body.

Ron panicked. "Please don't leave. I'll do anything - just don't leave."

Malfoy was in front of him now but still close enough that Ron could feel warm breath ghosting across his face. Malfoy moved closer. Ron stepped back.

"Define _anything_," Malfoy said with a sly smile.

Ron was beginning to think giant spiders and giggling beastie things wouldn't be so bad. Wait a minute. Giggling? And all at once it hit him. What a bastard.

"That was you - you - git." Ron took a step toward Malfoy.

"Excuse me, Weasley?" The blond still looked highly amused.

"Giggling," Ron answered. "That was you. You utter total bastard. You've been following me and listening all this time."

"What can I say, Ronald," the Slytherin shrugged, "you were rather amusing at times. I mean homicidal teddy bears? And snogging McGonagall? Merlin, your therapist - if you could afford one - would have a field day."

Ron took another step towards the other boy. "You git! You've been here all this time and didn't let me know. How could you do that to me?" He knew he sounded more hurt than angry but he couldn't help it.

Malfoy hadn't stepped back and now he took a step closer. Leaning forward his voice devoid of all malice he spoke softly, "I don't know," he whispered. "Seeing you, looking at you like this, I honestly don't know how I could have stayed concealed for so long. And I'm sorry I did."

Ron flinched and moved away. The intensity in the other boys eyes and voice were scaring him. He took a deep breath and tried to sound calm. "Look, Malfoy, why don't we just concentrate on finding a way out of here?"

But Malfoy responded with an almost feral grin and moved up against him, hands splayed on Ron's chest.

"Oh, I couldn't possibly," he drawled into Ron's stunned face. "Not until I have my reward...after all you promised."

Ron tried to step away again only to find his back up against a tree.

God, he hated trees.

"What promise? I don't know what you're talking about." Ron licked his dry lips.

Malfoy drew closer still, eyes trained on Ron's mouth which was now inches from his. Then, he raised his head to look into Ron's eyes and slowly, very slowly licked his own lips and leaned in further.

Having nowhere else to go, Ron found himself breathing in to reduce the distance between their bodies.

"Oh, I think you do." Malfoy's voice was low, sending a myriad of chills down a variety of places on Ron's body and Ron found himself closing his eyes instinctively.

"I am so fucked."

"Not yet, Weaselbee."

Oh hell, he'd just said that out loud again. Maybe therapy wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Something else suddenly occurred to him - fuck, what did Malfoy mean by "yet"?

"Sssh." A soft whisper, a gentle hand stroking slow circles on his chest, a thumb lightly caressing his cheek. "It's okay breathe. Just breathe."

Eyes still closed Ron's breathing slowed to the sound of the voice. The hand stilled and rested on him; a warm spot in the cold fog. Concentrating on that warmth Ron leaned into it. One breath. Two. Ron opened his eyes and found himself staring into Malfoy's eyes.

"Okay now?" All teasing had gone from the other boy's voice.

Ron nodded. Nothing to be scared of here. No spiders. No fog. He felt hands on his chest again but that was okay because they weren't long, hairy, spider legs. He felt hot air against his lips. That was okay too.

"I claim my kiss, Ron."

And warm lips pressed against his. Again he was drawn towards the warmth. A tongue reached out and touched his lips. Teeth nipped teasingly. And Ron lost himself. His mouth opened to the Slytherin, who wasted no time in making himself familiar with all of it. Their tongues danced slowly against each other as their lips pressed closer.

* * *

Draco, taking advantage of Weasley's obvious distraction, slipped one hand under the tatty jumper to the warm skin beneath, while his other hand caressed the soft hair at the nape of Weasley's neck.

Draco smiled into the kiss; his impulse to follow the other boy into the Forest was certainly paying off.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Ron's Forbidden Forest adventure from Draco's point of view. 

* * *

How Draco Learned To Love Ugly Cats, Huge Spiders And Fog

Draco hadn't planned to follow the Weasel.

But when he'd seen the tall redhead running after that ugly cat of Granger's he couldn't resist. A chance to watch the other boy alone was just too tempting. For once he would be able to enjoy the view without Scarhead and the Mudblood spoiling it.

As it was, not only had Draco been able to admire the Gryffindor's obvious assets, he'd also managed to learn a lot more about the fiery redhead.

Like how luscious his arse looked clad in black jeans - actually that was a lie - he'd already known that for sometime - robes really ought to be hauled up before a jury for crimes against humanity! No the lusciousness of Weasley's arse came as no surprise, he just liked mentioning it.

But he had learned some new things too. Like this fear of fog. Draco had known about the arachnophobia, after Lupin's class who didn't? But this fog thing was something new.

Of course, he'd immediately started to scheme. Perhaps if he could scare the gorgeous boy badly enough then Weasley would be reduced to a babbling wreck, with little or no strength to fight off a horny Slytherin.

Aaah, the possibilities…

What Draco hadn't reckoned with was having to battle with his own urge to rush forward and wrap the poor frightened idiot in his arms. But Weasley was just too adorable when scared shitless - really the silly boy wasn't safe to be let out on his own.

* * *

It had all come about quite by accident. Draco had gone for a walk outside after dinner in an attempt to escape the well-meaning but insufferable Pansy.

Merlin, she was relentless.

Ever since their disastrous snogging session in fourth year, she had become single-minded - at least where he was concerned. It was Draco's own fault. The only reason he'd grabbed her and initiated a game of tonsil quidditch in the first place was because he was so turned on by the sight of Weasley in his god-awful dress robes. How anyone could be turned on by such a pitiful sight was beyond reason but well he had been and Pansy's was the nearest available tongue.

It had started off well. Pansy was obviously very happy - well, who wouldn't be? But after ten minutes his imagination had given out. It just took too much effort to imagine that her rather bony arse belonged to the strapping redhead Draco actually had in mind.

After the tears had dried - embarrassingly _his_ not hers - they'd had a long heart to heart. It turned out that Pansy had had her suspicions for some time and was actually - ear splittingly high pitched if memory served - more pleased to have a gay best friend than a horny boyfriend. Just his luck. She had spent the next three years fixing Draco up with a variety of eligible young men, while all the time urging him to "go for it" with the Weasel. Draco had tolerated it rather well until recently when she had become quite impossible.

It had started a few weeks back. While they were sitting at breakfast Pansy had leaned over and whispered in Draco's ear.

Not terribly awful in itself, though it had distracted him from his cornflakes. Luckily so, as it turned out. Because Draco was quite sure, had he been eating then there was a good chance that Crabbe, who'd been sitting opposite him at the time, would have ended up with a face full of cereal. Which while improving Vincent's visage would have done nothing for Draco's own dignity.

For dear old Pansy had been whispering to him what Weasley was wearing under his robes that day. She had gone on to say how sexy each article of clothing looked on him and exactly how long it would take to remove said articles with one's teeth.

Recovering from the images her words had conjured in his head, Draco had been furious at what he perceived as her own lust for HIS redhead. Pansy had spent the next two weeks driving him into a jealous frenzy with her daily "Weasel Report" as she termed it.

When Draco could take it no longer and had angrily confronted her, threatening a number of Unforgivables in the process, Pansy had confessed that it was all an elaborate ploy designed to get him to, "finally get your arse in gear and jump Weasley's bones before they become too brittle from old age, you moron."

See? Quite impossible.

* * *

So, there Draco had been wandering aimlessly around the grounds when he had spotted the object of his affections running towards the Forbidden Forest. He'd expected to see the other two members of the famous trio somewhere in the vicinity but then, he noticed Granger's cat just ahead of the running boy.

Why was he chasing that ginger fleabag?

Draco knew from his own observations that Weasley was far from fond of the ugly brute but he would have thought that the Gryffindor's ingrained sense of kindness to all living things - Slytherins excepted - would have prohibited outright cruelty. Perhaps the boy had finally come to his senses and woken up to the joys of torturing.

Well, this could be interesting. And Draco had made the impulsive decision to follow.

Draco had easily been able to track the Weasel - "stealthy" was not a word one would readily apply to Weasley. Even when the fog had deepened and the trees grew denser taking the little remaining light, trailing the other boy was easy.

It soon became clear, however, that Ron hadn't been quite as successful with his own quarry. It was really rather amusing listening to the poor lad cursing and calling the cat every evil name he could think of. Then, it got really funny when the half-wit started talking to himself.

At first, Draco had panicked thinking the Weasel had seen him and was shouting at him to shut up. He was just about to snap back that he hadn't actually said anything when he realised that the Gryffindor was actually shouting at himself. Either that or Weasley had started hearing voices (a schizophrenic Weasel...what an intriguing thought. What were the chances of one of Weasley's multiple personalities having lax morals and an insatiable sexual appetite? Well, Draco could dream...).

Draco continued to listen to the other boy trying hard not to laugh. So, that was it. He'd kicked the cat and now felt obliged to fetch it back safely into Granger's arms.

What an idiot. Draco couldn't hold back the snigger. Now the silly boy was quite obviously lost and just beginning to realise it. Draco stopped and watched the Gryffindor lean up against a tree.

Lucky fucking tree.

Spiders? Why was Weasley talking about spiders? Oh, that's right he was arachnophobic wasn't he? And here he was, poor bastard, in the middle of a dark forest known for it's Acromantula.

I'd think him incredibly brave, Draco thought, except I know that the daft bugger didn't actually think it through before he came charging in here. Still, he does look cute all panicked and scared.

Where was Weasley's wand, Draco wondered? Surely he'd brought it with him? After all, what sort of moron runs into the Forbidden Forest after dark without his wand?

He was startled by a sudden outburst from the other boy.

Prefects badge? Who the fuck wanted Weasley's prefects badge?

Draco began to fear for the Gryffindor's sanity. Especially when the redhead started laughing out loud.

Oh oh, he's talking again. Keep listening, Draco, who knows what you might learn.

This preoccupation with spiders was rather endearing in a neurotic sort of way.

Distraction? I could give him something to distract him, Draco thought eagerly.

POTTER! Why was he thinking about Harry Potter when he could be thinking about Draco? No taste Weasley, no taste at all. Draco shook his head sadly as he followed along in the shadows.

Oh, so that was it. Weasley was scared of fog as well as spiders. Oh, you poor thing, Draco thought gleefully, I am so going to have you. Ah, Potter again...yadda, yadda, yadda, blah, blah...Kiss. Weasley just said "kiss". Now "snog". Draco definitely heard the word snog.

Thank you, thank you , thank...

What does he mean except ME? Bastard! Well, I'm hurt now. He'd snog practically any animal, vegetable or mineral but not me. Draco huffed in righteous indignation.

Weasley, meanwhile, had stopped walking and seemed to be trying to see through the mist that surrounded them. Then, Draco thought all his Christmas' had come at once as the stunning redhead suddenly declared loudly to the forest at large that actually he would snog Draco after all.

And I should bloody well hope so, Draco concurred. Breathing heavily, Draco tried to reign in his own reaction to that heady thought, only to be brought up sharply by the next words out of that delicious mouth.

Eew! Eew! Eew!

Father? Ick! And now Dobby? Ooh Weasley, you are one sick puppy.

Just a minute, did he say "anything"? He'd do "anything"? Well, brace yourself, Weasel, 'cos here I come...Fuck! Where's he going?

The other boy had started to run.

Fuck that, Draco thought, he's not getting away, not now that he's declared that he's willing to be the sex slave of whoever saves him.

And he had set off at a run after the fleeing Gryffindor.

Thankfully, the silly bugger soon come to a halt.

Good job. Draco prided himself on his fitness but it was a bit of a struggle to keep up with those long legs...mmm...LONG legs...Puts up with YOU? Draco snorted loudly in disgust.

Did Weasley really just wonder how the Boy Who Gives Me A Migraine puts up with HIM? He really needed to work on his self-esteem. Oh we're moving again. Does he have any idea how magnificent he is? Tall, utterly fuckable, tall, brave, loyal, tall, funny. Did I mention tall? And what was Potter? Short, utterly detestable, short, whiny, self-serving, short, and a four eyed, short, git. He was lucky to have Weasley as his friend, willing to put up with the conceited, muggle-reared midget.

Teddy bears?

How did he get on to teddy bears?

Draco was finding it hard to follow the redhead's train of thought.

Oh okay, now I'm thinking about Weasley hugging a teddy bear. Draco sniggered loudly.

Oops, Weasley heard that. Perhaps Draco needed to be a bit more discreet.

Oh, another rest stop. And why are the trees getting all the Weasley action? Wonder how hard it would be to transfigure oneself into a tree...

Ooh, wait up, Weasley just mentioned me. That's more like it. Obsessing about me no doubt. Of course, it had to happen one day. So, Weasley you're wondering what I'd do?

Well, Weasel, after I'd finished ripping your clothes off with my teeth - thank you Pansy for the tip -I'd...POTTER! We're back to bloody POTTER again! Way to ruin the mood Weasley. Snape? McGONAGALL? Okay must stop this now before I'm left mentally scarred for life.

And with that, Draco stepped forward and pressed a throbbing body up against the delectable Gryffindor.

Now for some fun.

"Guess who?"

Draco couldn't believe how good this felt. This close, breathing Weasley in. Voldemort, he smelled good. And so warm. So right.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Weasel but Daddy and Dobby couldn't make it."

Draco could feel the body in front of him tense as recognition set in. Okay, brace yourself, Draco, here come the fists.

But the Weasel didn't move. Well, that was unexpected.

Is he really that scared, Draco wondered? Right, let's see how far I can go before he kills me.

He pressed a little closer and practically stuck his tongue down the Weasel's ear. "Guess yet, Weaselbee?"

To Draco's continued surprise the boy still didn't react.

Well, Draco thought, might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.

Pressing closer still, he whispered. "I claim my reward. And I promise I won't faint or vomit."

What do you mean - what reward? Oh, stop trying to be coy, Weasley. We both know what I mean.

"Oh, I think you know."

Right, here it comes - get ready to duck, Draco.

Still nothing?

Fuck.

The poor dumb bastard really didn't have a clue. This obviously required a more drastic approach.

Nice as it is to be pressed up against your arse, Weasel, I think it would be rather nice to see your face about now.

With a certain amount of reluctance, Draco dropped his hands from Weasley's eyes and moved to face him.

He was taken aback at the other boy's panicked response.

Oh bless, he thought I was leaving. Yeah right, like that's going to happen. ANYTHING? Did he just say he'd do "anything" if I stayed?

Merlin, I love that cat.

"Define _anything_..."

Might as well get some clarification; want to make sure I have my story straight just in case this ever goes to trial.

Git? Oops busted. Here come the fists; better come clean.

He sounds so hurt. And he has a point. How could I have stayed away for so long? When he looked like this. So appealing.

Draco took a step closer to the striking boy in front of him.

"I don't know. Seeing you, looking at you like this, I honestly don't know how I could have stayed concealed for so long. And I'm sorry I did."

I won't make that mistake again. Don't move away, Weasley.

Out of here?

Are you insane?

We are _so_ not going anywhere.

"Oh, I couldn't possibly. Not until I have my reward...after all you promised."

Accept it, Weasel, we are going to snog today. Merlin, I've thought about this for so long. Touching his chest. Close enough to feel his breath. Look at that mouth. So red. So...

"Oh, I think you do."

"I am so fucked."

"Not yet, Weaselbee."

Oh dear. I think I may have pushed him over the edge. Poor thing looks positively terrified. Calm down, Weasley. We'll take it slow. Don't want to scare you off. Not now I've decided I'm going to keep you.

"Sssh..."

There now, it's not so bad is it? God his skin is so soft. This is crazy, I really should get the fuck out of here. Quick.

"It's okay breathe...just breathe."

Draco had meant that for himself but it seemed to have a calming effect on the boy in front of him too. And he tried; tried to breathe, to not get lost in the sight before him...light eyelashes resting on a pale cheek; perfect, porcelain skin framed by a halo of deepest red...

Oh shit, I am in deep, deep trouble here.

Eyes slowly opened and Draco was enveloped in blue. Leaning close.

Oh Merlin, I'm going to do it. I'm finally going to do it.

And he did.

He should have been disappointed. It should have been a let down. All those years living it in his head, in his dreams. How could it live up to that?

And yet...


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Hagrid's take on recent events. 

* * *

How Hagrid Learned Never To Go Walking In The Forbidden Forest After Dark, In The Fog. Ever Again. Ever. No Really. Just No.

Hagrid loved nights like these.

Enveloped in darkness and mist, filled with the mystical sounds of the forest all around him. He just didn't understand why some people - oh okay then - _most_ people hated the Forbidden Forest after dark.

Perhaps that was unfair...

Most people seemed to hate it in daylight too.

He loved it. Never felt more at home than amongst its densest branches and darkest knolls. Never knowing what you would come across next. Which of all the many denizens were likely to leap out at you at any given moment.

_Oh_…

Perhaps _that's_ what the others didn't like.

Ha, he'd like to see the sight that was likely to send him running from here.

Rounding a clump of Devils Snare he thought he saw a flash of red on his left.

What the…?

He moved closer. He was right, there was definitely someone there. And if that hair colour was any indication it was a Weasley. That meant Ron or Ginny. And unless Ginny had undergone a major growth spurt since he'd seen her that morning it must be Ron.

Well, what on earth was he doing in here? Everyone knew that the forest held quite specific terrors for the youngest Weasley boy.

He moved closer, concern for the boy hastening his steps.

The mist cleared…

And there - there - was - Ron - and - and...

Hagrid dropped the bow he was carrying, turned and ran, screaming from the forest, leaving behind a bemused Fang.

"Woof?"


End file.
